Remotionem Magicae
by Katie Alden
Summary: Voldemort has invented a new spell, which threatens Harry's ability to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. But with a little push from his Potions Professor, Harry answers his calling and uses unusual methods to win once and for all. Written for the QLFC Season 7 Round 11


**Written for the QLFC Season 7 Round 11. Chaser 2 - A character loses their powers. Additional prompts: 2. (Song) Top of the World - Rachel Bearer; 4. (Quote) Talent is an accident of genes and responsibility - Alan Rickman; 14. (Emotion) Anger**

**This story is AU from the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. **

**Wing Chun is a form of martial arts that incorporates the use of curved knives. I have not used specific moves within the story to avoid inaccuracies, however I acknowledge that I have adapted the art by adding in the use of a full sword.**

Snape made his way down the cold, dark corridor, his nerves on edge. He had been summoned to a private audience with the Dark Lord, and that could only mean one of two things - either he had been found out as a spy, or the Dark Lord had something particularly awful planned for Dumbledore or Potter. While he once would have preferred the latter option, he found himself hoping it was the former. At least if he were to die, the fight against Voldemort would continue. Protecting the most powerful wizard of the current age and The Chosen One would be a much more difficult prospect.

As he entered the Dark Lord's private chambers, Snape felt the temperature drop even further. He had never understood his Master's affinity with the cold, however, had learnt to carry an extra cloak with him in case he was called into Headquarters.

"You called for me, my Lord?" Snape stopped in the doorway. No Death Eater would ever forget what had happened to the first - and last - person to enter without express permission.

"Ah, Severus. Yes, come in. I require your expertise."

"Surely, you do not require my assistance, my Lord. All of your endeavours are successful, regardless of my involvement."

"You flatter me, Severus. It is true, I do not need assistance when it comes to feats of magic. However, it is not wise for me to venture out too often; the longer I can hide my reemergence into this world, the better for our cause. For this reason, I need both your magical abilities and your ability to teach others."

"Yes, my Lord. I take it you already have a plan?" Severus kept his tone carefully controlled, and his face neutral. Even the slightest indication that he was not wholly loyal to his Master would be deadly.

"I have invented a spell, Severus. A spell to remove all traces of magic from one's target."

"A useful spell, my Lord, and a dangerous one. Does it have a counterspell?"

"I have no need for a counterspell. If a need ever arises, I shall invent one then." Voldemort fixed Severus with his cold gaze, methodically searching for any sign that the man was not all that he seemed. Apparently, he couldn't find anything, as presently he continued.

"I shall teach you this spell, Severus, and then you must teach the others. Instruct them to use it wisely - we do need some magic still in the world once we gain full power."

"Yes, my Lord. Whenever you are ready."

"The spell is _Remotionem Magicae_."

* * *

Harry sighed as he flipped through his potions textbook. Considering how much work they had during the year, he thought that it was distinctly unfair to also be given holiday homework. Rules were rules, though, and he didn't want to face Snape's wrath if he turned in an unfinished essay.

The thought of Snape drew his mind to another topic, one which he had been pondering for the past month. Why would Snape, known for his animosity towards Gryffindors in general and himself in particular, want to help him? It was more than just being an Order member.

Every so often he would find an extra piece of parchment tucked into his marked essays, with some defensive spell or practical tip to help his fighting. Sometimes during Occlumency lessons, Harry felt that Snape was almost happy to be there.

None of that, however, compared to last month. He would never be able to prove it, but Harry was sure that Snape was the reason Sirius was still alive. Just as Sirius had been flying back towards the veil, a spell was fired from a dark corner of the room, knocking Sirius back into safety. While the caster was masked, Harry had seen Snape cast enough spells to know his style.

Which begged the question - Why? Snape's hatred for Sirius was painfully obvious, and it would have been far better for his ruse as a Death Eater to let Sirius die. But he hadn't, and Harry couldn't shake the thought that it had been for him.

Harry was shaken out of his thoughts by the door banging open, and Ron rushing in, eyes alight with excitement.

"Harry, come quickly. Snape and Dumbledore have arrived and want to speak to us. Apparently, they're going to take a hand in our training!"

* * *

Snape worked to control his anger as the young Gryffindors filed into the basement kitchen. He may not have liked them, but he did not want them to die. That was what would happen, however, if his Master's plan came to fruition. They would all be removed of their magic, and then picked off one-by-one, as defenceless as a rag doll. He had to stop it.

"Listen up. What I am about to tell you is not only top-secret, but it will mean the difference between your death and your survival. Lord Voldemort has invented a spell of his own, a spell to remove the magic of whoever it is cast upon. There is as yet no counter-curse, leaving the target defenceless." Snape felt a feeling of satisfaction as he looked at the pale faces in front of him. He had to give the children credit - as unruly as they could be in class when it came to serious matters of war, they could be as professional as the most experienced Auror. The faces in front of him were scared but determined. He already knew he had made the right choice. He couldn't let them know that, however. He had an image to uphold, after all.

"For a reason I have yet to fathom, the Order wishes to ensure your survival. We have spent the last two weeks searching far and wide for the best way to do so, and have decided the only choice is to train you in Muggle combat. As such, you will spend the rest of your summer training in Wing Chun, an ancient form of martial arts, combining hand-to-hand combat with the use of knives. Fortunately for me, it has been decided that I will have no part in your training. It is my job to keep you up to date with Lord Voldemort's movements, and to train you in the spell so you may be able to recognise and defend against it should the need ever arise. I expect full concentration in our lessons; slackers will be dismissed. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir." Snape almost smiled at the unity of the group before him. The Dark Lord severely underestimated his opponents, these children included. Instead, however, he turned his smile into a scowl.

"Well, what are you all waiting for? To bed, all of you! Your training begins at dawn."

* * *

"Again, Potter! And do it correctly this time!"

Harry resisted the urge to snap back at Moody. He knew the experienced Auror was just trying to ensure his survival in the inevitable battle against Voldemort. However, he would happily face death to have a break right now. His muscles were screaming, sweat was pouring down his face, and he appeared to be utterly incapable of mastering even the basics of Wing Chun.

He didn't know whether it was predestined mediocracy or the fact that he felt that he was almost drowning under the pressure to be ready to defeat Voldemort, but so far Harry showed the least talent out of all of the trainees. Even Hermione had shown a surprising aptitude for knife fighting. On the other hand, Harry was consistently messing up the martial arts combinations and had been given magically blunted knives after the sixth time he had injured either himself or his opponent.

Taking a deep breath, Harry began the first combination, only to get his feet crossed, landing him on the hard floor.

"Up you get, Potter. Go again."

"No." Harry stood - or rather, sat - his ground, defiance evident in every inch of his body.

"Potter, you don't have time for games. Go again."

"No. I can't, and I won't." Harry could see the vein starting to pulse in Moody's temple, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Something had snapped inside him, and all reason had long disappeared.

"Fine. If you want to die, then I guess you'll die. But remember this, Potter: there are thousands of lives counting on you. If you die, they will die also. I never thought of you as being one to give up."

"It's too hard!" Harry tried to stop it, he really did. He tried to keep all of his fears and insecurities hidden within, but they all came flooding out. "I can't do this! I didn't choose this!"

"You may not have chosen it, Potter, but fate has chosen you. It's up to you to live up to that." Harry hadn't heard his Potion's Professor enter the room, but he quickly fixed his stare on the sallow spy.

"I don't care if fate chose me. I don't have the skills to save the world. My talent is Quidditch and getting into trouble. Not fighting Dark Lords and leading an army."

Snape matched Harry's intent stare with one of his own. "Talent is an accident of genes and responsibility, Potter. You have been given the responsibility of defeating Voldemort, and as much as it pains me to do so, magical and muggle skill both run through your veins. It is up to you whether you allow them to work together, but listen carefully, Potter. If you do not, you dishonour the genes you have been given, and the sacrifice your parents made for you." Without another word Snape swept from the room, leaving Harry alone with Moody once more.

"Alright, Sir. One more time."

* * *

Once more, Snape found himself making his way to his Master's private room. It had been a few weeks since he had last been summoned, but he knew it had been too good to last. There had been rumours within the ranks of the Death Eaters that the long-anticipated battle was about to take place, and this summons seemed to confirm Snape's deepest fears.

While the young group of Gryffindors residing at Order Headquarters had come a long way in their training over the past two months, Snape knew they would not be ready for an actual battle. Harry had finally accepted his position within the Wizarding world and had mastered the art of knife fighting just last week. Snape knew that Lupin would begin training Harry to use Gryffindor's sword later that day. What better weapon to use against Voldemort than one with Basilisk venom imbued within it?

As the preparations for the final battle continued on both sides, Dumbledore had been travelling far and wide to ensure all Horcruxes were destroyed before Harry stepped onto the battlefield. They had yet to find a solution to the Horcrux living within Harry himself. Black had suggested letting Harry knick himself with Gryffindor's sword, but they didn't want to accidentally kill the boy in the process. As much as they all hated to admit it, some things would need to be taken care of in the moment.

Snape paused to take a deep breath before knocking on Voldemort's door. Just the thought of a sixteen-year-old having to fight to the death made him angry. He never pretended to like Potter, but no kid should ever have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

With one last breath, he knocked, opening the door at the summons from within.

"You needed me, my Lord?"

"Severus, I am tired of waiting. Are my Death Eaters ready to use the curse?"

"Yes, my Lord. The last of them finished their training yesterday. May I assume you wish to attack soon?"

"You may so assume, Severus. The longer we wait, the more our enemy is prepared."

"Do you have a date in mind, my Lord, or would you like suggestions?"

"You may suggest, Severus. I may not accept your suggestions."

"Yes, my Lord. My suggestion would be on September 1st. It is only one week away, and the time would allow us to solidify our plans. Additionally, the students are at their weakest on September 1st. If we strike at Hogsmeade station, they will be unprotected, and child hostages will ensure cooperation among the parents."

"You have spoken wisely, Severus. Spread the word that we will strike on the evening of September 1st, as the students leave the train in Hogsmeade."

"Yes, my Lord."

* * *

Harry stared across the table at his Professor. There was something in his eyes the teen had not seen before. Concern, anger, and even fear. Harry knew instantly why he had been called.

"When is the battle, Professor?"

"Excuse me?" Snape looked genuinely confused as if he hadn't expected Harry to be so astute.

"The battle, Professor. Voldemort has set a date, hadn't he?"

"I see you have accepted your responsibility, Potter. Ensure you continue to shoulder it, as the battle is indeed upon us. Lord Voldemort plans to strike on September 1st, as you disembark the Hogwarts Express."

"That's next week!"

"Indeed. Voldemort does not intend to give you more time to prepare than he can help."

"What do I need to do, Professor?"

"I am doubling your training, Potter. From dawn to dusk you will practice Wing Chun, including the use of Gryffindor's sword. You will also practice identifying Voldemort's spell amongst a barrage of others. This training will mean the difference between life and death for your friends."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Harry raced up the pathway towards the Castle. The battle had begun the moment he stepped off the train and had been raging for over an hour now. Already there had been casualties on both sides, and Harry pushed the image of Colin Creevey dropping like a rag doll out of his mind. He would have plenty of time to mourn later, provided he won. And to do that, he needed to reach Hogwarts, where he instinctively knew Voldemort was waiting for him.

As he ran, he sensed more than saw someone come up behind him. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, he knew it was friend, not foe, and reached behind him to take Gryffindor's sword from Ginny. He was not sure just how she had managed to smuggle it off the train, but he had long since learnt not to question the methods of the Weasleys.

Harry reached the Great Hall, something within him guiding him to the right place. However, before he could visually sweep the area for Voldemort, Voldemort found him.

"_Remotionem Magicae_."

Harry felt fire erupt in his veins as his magic was pulled out of him from the inside out. This, he had been expecting if he ever got hit by the curse. What Snape hadn't prepared himself for, however, was the searing pain in his scar, followed by a soothing warmth, almost like Madam Pomfrey's healing spells.

He had no time to ponder, however, as Voldemort raised his wand for the kill. Allowing his training to take over, Harry moved into a basic Wing Chun combination, sword held close to him. Purposely ignoring the shocked look on Voldemort's face, Harry continued moving until he was within striking distance. Voldemort snapped back to attention, firing a barrage of spells at his enemy, however, Harry always seemed one step ahead as he ducked and wove through the spells.

Voldemort's eyes widened in shock as the sword slid almost gently between his ribs. His mouth opened in a silent scream as the Basilisk venom spread through his blood. Finally, he slumped forward, landing on the ground with a thud.

Later, Harry couldn't remember the specifics of the next few hours. He knew there had been a lot of hugging and crying, tears of joy over their victory and tears of pain over the ones they lost along the way.

In those moments, Harry finally felt that it was all worth it. All those times where he had felt like he was drowning, they had brought him here. His dreams finally felt like they were in reach without the shadow of Voldemort looming over him. He felt on top of the world.


End file.
